


unintended

by newsbypostcard



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5437721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela doesn’t do things like ‘hold hands’ or 'use your words’ or, Maker forbid, ’<em>touching hair</em>’ with the person she’s bumping uglies with.</p>
<p>Not even for Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unintended

**Author's Note:**

> a wee ficlet from a couple weeks ago I'm reposting from tumblr :)

Isabela doesn't do _love_. She doesn't do affection. She does respect and intimidation and admiration and nakedness, but these smaller feelings -- which is to say, the feelings that make her feel small -- she doesn't do. 

Not even for Hawke. 

Accordingly, she doesn't do things like 'hold hands' or 'use your words' or, Maker forbid, ' _touching hair_ ' with the person she's bumping uglies with. If they want her to, she'll hold them to the ground with her foot, but nothing so horrifically unintentional as-- 

Anyway. 

_Not even for Hawke._

So even though she's spending more time with Hawke than she ever has with anyone -- even though there's something unspoken in what they're doing, like they have something that might bring those smaller feelings to make her feel something other than small -- it's still unacceptable when Hawke's hand buries itself in Isabela's hair. Because she doesn't _do_ that kind of thing. She doesn't _do_ \-- 

Anyway. 

Not. Even. For. Hawke. 

It happens most, this _thing_ where Hawke's fingers work into her hair, when they are lying in bed. Not having sex -- just lying there, usually after sex, otherwise doing nothing. Being warm. Being near each other. These are things that Isabela will occasionally do. But Hawke has too many things in her mind to do nothing for long, so she usually slides some thick book off the bedstand after the first twenty minutes or so of nothing, and Isabela -- is made to _lie there_ and _accept_ the feeling of her palm against her scalp, the occasional scrape of her finger by her ear-- 

As though she _does that kind of thing._

You know. 

The -- love stuff. 

So Isabela stops her, the fourth or twelfth or twentieth time Hawke's hand slides absent-mindedly into her hair, when that _feeling_ starts churning in her stomach and she narrowly resists the urge to make some pleased noise in her throat, as though she could _possibly_ enjoy such a thing as a _hand_ in her _hair_. 

"I don't do that," she says, firmly, sitting up to look right at Hawke. 

"Mm?" Hawke looks up from her book and focuses her eyes as though struggling to remember that there is a world outside the text. "Do what?" 

The hand has been withdrawn and lies, innocently, on the blankets. 

Could it be that Hawke doesn't even know she's--? 

Isabela thinks. 

"Nothing," she says, just as stubbornly, and lies immediately back down, pulling the covers back up to her chin. 

"Okay," Hawke says. 

Three minutes later, the hand is back in her hair, and Isabela closes her eyes and tries not to feel-- 

You know. 

Anyway. 

If Hawke doesn't even know she's doing it, and if it doesn't make her feel that small after all, maybe ... maybe this time, it's okay. 

But only for Hawke.


End file.
